The Alexandrian life
by Sunshine-M
Summary: A series of drabbles/Ons-shot, in counter chronological order, in a universe where Daryl & Carol are happy at Alexandria. Carol/Daryl, Written for the Fluff A-Palooza. Please Read and review. I own nothing of course.
1. A cult, maybe?

"What is this, a cult?" Daryl asked, looking at the set up.

Alexandria was holding its first group wedding. Apparently, several people had expressed the wish to get married, and since they would never have enough food to entertain a bunch of different receptions for as many weddings, it had been decided that there would be one big ceremony where each couple would be wedded, and then, a common reception.

"You're just pissed off you never mentioned to Carol that you were not against the idea of marrying her," Michonne laughed, punching him in the ribs.

"Watcha talking about?" Daryl asked, doing that thing where he wasn't blushing but if he could he would be crimson red.

"Come on. You can pretend with the guys but not with me, or the other girls of our clan on this matter."

"What...?"

"We have noticed that you and Carol have been sharing a room. We know that you wait till nobody is around and then you slip in her room like no big deal, and then you slip out in the morning, before the others get up, like no big deal again. Except it is a big deal, otherwise you wouldn't be waiting for us to be away when you did it."

He didn't say anything, which was very much the same as him trying to deny it adamantly using way too many words and too many arguments for anybody to not see the truth he would have tried to hide with protests.

"I saw your crossbow in Carol's room when you had that day off, and I needed to borrow shampoo. None of you were in the room, but the bed was unmade the way it gets when two people sleep in it. Maggie told me condoms seem to be disappearing from the stash, not that she's counting them or anything. She just was worried Rick may have been too late in giving Carl the talk. Rosita and Tara saw you exit Carol's room, and Carol apparently kissed you goodbye in nothing but a sheet. Hell, we've started referring to Carol's room as the lovebirds' room, because you can pretend all you want, we can see it. Sasha says the last time she went on a run with you, you were smelling like Carol's shampoo."

"What is it, the fucking inquisition?" Daryl asked, flushed, and annoyed, but more obviously just caught off guard.

"I never asked a question," Michonne said. "I'm just stating facts."

"Nobody asked you to!" Daryl exclaimed, before going away.

Michonne felt bad, for all of five seconds. She had spoken the truth. Hell, she even had more proofs up her sleeves but she had kept them to herself in order to not embarrass him too much. According to Tara, Daryl made noises during sex. Tara had changed bedroom the night after she had made that discovery but still, she could tell. There were more proofs, and Michonne hoped Daryl wouldn't take it out on Carol. The two of them were so private, she hadn't been surprised they had never made a big announcement about them deciding to share a bed.

Though Michonne did wonder how none of the guys had seen it happen. Maybe it was true what they said, about woman's instinct and all? There had been so many clues to pick up on.

And there was also the fact that Carol had been completely chill when Michonne had tried talking to her about her bedfellow. She hadn't said that Michonne was right, but she had given her that look, which said "good job", and more. Carol conveyed more in her demeanor than she sometimes did with words, unless she was trying to scare a grown man shitless.

Michonne was surprised to see that Rick had appeared next to her. He was watching the couples arriving to the ceremony point. All of them were wearing their best suits and dresses, and quite frankly, Michonne found it a bit disturbing that when warned about the impending zombie contagion, some of the survivors had decided to grab wedding dresses which had to be family heirlooms in their baggage. That would have been the last thing she would have packed. Then again, it was not like she had received an engraved invitation to the Apocalypse.

"What is this," Rick said, "a cult?"

"Déjà vu." Michonne said, with a smile.

"I'm not criticizing, I'm just... Wait what?"

Michonne had seen it too. Amongst the would be grooms and brides, a new couple had made their arrival and were clashing with the rest of the participants. Carol was still wearing her apron and Daryl was just dressed as he always was. Yet, they took their places in the ranks, sharing some secretive smile.

Daryl looked at Michonne who slapped Rick on the thigh.

"Get everybody here ASAP! We have a wedding to celebrate!"

She jumped off the porch where she had been sitting, and went to gather their troops. Rick just stared.

Maybe, when the next group wedding happened... Michonne shook her head. It was too early to even think about that. She told Tara about Daryl and Carol being part of the cult wedding, and the news spread like wildfire.

Carol removed her apron and tossed it to Michonne who in turn gave her a very poor bouquet the girls had put together in the few minutes before. If they were going to do this, they would do this right.

Deanna almost had a heart attack when she saw them all arrive, in dirty or just average clothes, but that was who they were.

The leader married each couple at a time, and none got a bigger cheer than Carol and Daryl. He kissed his new wife, and the women clapped in their clan, while the men were talking amongst themselves "did you see that coming?" "No, did you?"

Michonne and Maggie shared a smile then went to congratulate the newlyweds.

"So..." Maggie said.

"Yeah," Carol answered, with glee in her eyes.

"Yeah." Daryl echoed.

Then he grabbed her and kissed her again.

When they let go, he looked at Michonne and repeated:

"Yeah."

"A man of so many words, be still my heart," Michonne joked.

"Are you sure you're not related to Shakespeare or Milton perhaps?" Maggie joked along.

They went back to their group, happily. Carol and Daryl held hands and didn't say anything.

"When did that happen?" Abraham asked.

"Oh. My. God." Rosita exploded. "It's been happening for so long, you should get your eyes checked."

"Or your ears," Tara said.

It was all in good fun though, and a cult-like wedding it may have started to be, but the moment two of their own had joined, the moment it had just become true and romantic and more. Michonne laughed with Maggie, sipping bad champagne, imagining how Daryl had convinced Carol to marry him. Maybe she would learn that truth one day.


	2. A Man of So Many words

Daryl's blood was pumping through his veins and the thumping was so loud he wanted to cover his ears.

He hadn't expected their little shenanigans to go unnoticed forever, but getting called on it by Michonne had been something else.

He didn't think, just let his feet go where he had to be.

Carol was covered in flour, in the communal kitchen. She had been assigned to preparing the cakes for this event.

She looked up and saw him and gave him that half smile of hers, which was as vibrant an I love you than someone actually shouting out those words.

"You," Daryl barked at one of the ladies in the kitchen, sitting around and doing nothing, "can you bake?"

"What?" She asked, taken aback.

"Can you bake? Make fucking cakes?" He asked again, getting annoyed.

"Yes."

"Then you're in charge," he told her.

"But Carol..." The woman tried to say.

"You're in charge." He repeated again slowly.

Carol had witnessed everything, and her smile may have widened a bit.

He came up to her, as she was getting rid of the dough on her hands.

"So, we're getting married?" She said.

"Damn it, woman, I'm supposed to be the one doing the proposing!" He exclaimed, actually frustrated.

"Go ahead," Carol said.

He took a few deep breathes and thought about what he should say, what he wanted to say. She had changed his life. He had been without her and had hated it. He wanted to keep on doing their things, but he also wanted to make a gesture, to let her know that it was more than something casual, though she probably knew it better than he did. He thought about how his life had changed now that they were sharing the same bed, something which had started innocently, the two of them cuddling together while a big storm raged above their heads.

Neither had been afraid of the storm, but when he had scratched her door and she had let him in, they had both pretended to take comfort and be less afraid of the storm, talking about the one which had taken place at Gabriel's church. The following day, he had come back. And back again. When he hadn't showed up the next day, she had come to him, and soon, the cuddling at turned into something more, something which had really made him feel like he was the man she had described him to be. Being with a real woman for whom you had feelings was so much more satisfying than any cheap fling he may had had in the past, and the fact that he loved her obviously counted for a lot: with Carol, nothing was just that, there was always a subtle subtext, a tacit understanding that made you feel, or made him feel like the prince on Earth for being able to read in her eyes or in the way she moved everything she was not saying. It made him feel blessed, unworthy, but selfishly possessive. He had known pain from a young age, and had started learning belonging as the normal days came to an end, but it was only when with Carol, platonically or romantically that he had gotten a taste of what love felt like, and passion. He would always belong to their clan, but he also belonged first and foremost to her, because she had loved him first, and he hoped she would love him last.

All those thoughts were brewing in his head, when he came up with the perfect proposal:

"Marry me?" He asked.

"Yes." She replied, biting her lip to refrain from smiling too much.

He grabbed her hand and kissed her. He then turned back to the chick he had singled out before. She came to replace Carol.

He linked their hands together, and they both went to the gazebo, to do just that, get married.


	3. The First Time

There was something surreal about being in a queen bed with Daryl, Carol thought, her eyes focused on him.

Hell, there was something surreal about being in a queen bed even alone. This was not what they had been used to, and though she had to embrace the changes for their community's chance at survival, she would admit without a doubt that the first night she had spent not with the others in the main room but on her own in what they called her bedroom, it had felt like she was lost. In the forest, you sometimes felt that way, but you had the group to keep you tethered to something concrete. On her own, in a bed she didn't know, in a town she didn't know, playing a game she knew too well from before the plague, it had felt like nothing she had known before.

She wasn't sure what had prompted Daryl to start climbing in bed with her, but it made things so much better. There had been this storm, a few days back, and it had been unnerving, not so much the storm itself, but the fact that for once, they were safe. Reg had been adamant that if a tree was to fall on the barriers, it would not bring it down, it would just need to be removed the next day, but this was not where her mind had gone. What if walkers used that tree as a bridge inside the town? How was she supposed to sleep when they were surrounded by people who would last maybe 10 minutes outside the gates?

Daryl had scratched on her door, saying something about the storm, and within minutes, they had been cuddling. She had taken advantage of the storm in order to worm her way into his arms, and she had noticed, feeling feminine pride at her success that he hadn't fought at all when she had made him make room for her there. He'd come back, and she'd gone looking for him when he hadn't. She was used to him in this bed with her, no matter how surreal it was.

He opened his eyes, and she would have blushed if she had been a shy 20 year old, but life was what it was and she wouldn't ask for his forgiveness for enjoying the view of a handsome man in her bed. He smiled, and she wondered if he could read her thoughts.

He tightened his arms around her waist, and she saw something in his eyes, something she had seen the night before and the one before, but had been too afraid to act on. Tonight she was not afraid, and she looked at him, running her fingers by the side of his face, pretending to brush away his hair, before closing the distance between them, and kissing him. The jolt she felt when she realized he had met her halfway, even sooner was a rush, a boost to her ego, but above anything else, it was proof that he was there with her, wherever there was when not talking about geographical positions.

The kiss could have lasted for hours, and she would have been happy with that. However, she wanted more, and she could tell he did too. She let her slid down his arms, and gently grabbed his hand, bringing it closer to her breast, just below on her ribcage, offering him a choice. He could keep on kissing her, or he could take a page from her book.

Daryl Dixon was nothing if not bright, and quick on his feet. He slid his hand beneath the t-shirt she was wearing, and her breath caught when he touched her breast, gently. His lips moved from her mouth to her ear, and soon she was moaning, enjoying the double stimulation. Her ears were high on her list of erogenous zones, and he seemed to know it.

He was careful with her, so careful, letting her take the lead, or let him know that what he was doing was okay and he could try doing more. It felt so wonderful to be free to make love, and to be able to surrender to your lover's caresses without fear. She removed her t-shirt and started working on his. Of course he had come to bed in full clothing, she thought with a giggle. When their naked chest pressed against each other, she sighed and wanted to swoon. This man wanted her as much as she wanted him, but he would not rush a thing, not if it meant her being uncomfortable.

It made him even sexier in her eyes, something she didn't believe possible. She let her hands run up and down his body, helping him out of his pants, playing with his side, discovering that he was ticklish, letting him find out that she was too, just above the waist. He kissed her collarbone and lowered his head, finding her nipple and sucking on it. She had never felt so worshipped in her entire life. The way he looked at her for approval made her feel like she was the most powerful person on Earth, even thought she was putty in his hands. He kissed every scar he encountered from the life she had had before, and kissed them slowly, as if he wanted to make them disappear. She caressed his back, gently and lovingly, wanting him to know she wanted and loved all of him.

His hand lowered between her legs, and she stopped thinking, instinct taking over. They got rid of his pants, and of the sweater pants she had on, and things began happening quicker though still as earth shattering. Soon, he was in her, and she never wanted to let him go. She had gripped his arm and his neck, and when he started moving, she offered him her neck for him to kiss on, which he did gladly. They moved slowly but in harmony, until they quickened the pace, unsure how long they could last. It was hard to keep in the noises she wanted to make, and the way he groaned made her want to groan even louder. When his fingers found her clit and played with it the way he had noticed she liked earlier, she let go, and came. He followed shortly after and when he fell back on top of her, her arms went around his waist as his head fell in the crook of her neck.

"I love the storm," she said, breathless.

He snorted, and moved them around, so that he could have her in his arms, in a protective fashion. His back was to the door, and she knew that even in the afterglow of amazing sex, he was thinking of her and her safety. He wanted to protect her with his body. She had never loved him more, and whispered words against his skin, words she had longed to say, and words he had longed to hear. They eventually fell asleep, holding each other tight, knowing that this new found intimacy was only a first step on a much longer road, which they couldn't wait to travel.


End file.
